


A Fawn Amid the Forest

by Lyssandra_Med



Series: One-Shot [39]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Myths & Legends, Centaur Hermione Granger, Creature Fic, Creature Hermione Granger, Druid Bellatrix Black Lestrange, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21936355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyssandra_Med/pseuds/Lyssandra_Med
Summary: Two souls, each wandering.Two souls, each found.Hermione lost her Family, Bellatrix left her own.They find one another, after a time.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Series: One-Shot [39]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1429282
Comments: 9
Kudos: 129





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No edit
> 
> I was told to -not- write a centaur work, so I did :D

There was just something about the everlasting calm of the forest that seemed to sooth Hermione’s nerves, no matter how long she wandered among the aspens or groves of tall oak. Even back when she had been nothing more than a fawn standing waist-high to her Mother, with knees all wobbly and hooves still new, it was deep within the blanketing comfort of the forest that she had felt the strongest call to home. It was never an easy feat to call one place hers or theirs, not with how swiftly the Herd had moved in an effort to escape the encroaching Humans. But then again _each_ place had become home, so long as her family had been with her.

Until they weren't, anymore.

The Hunters had come upon them suddenly and with fierceness unmatched, multiple streaks of darkness sprinting through the forest undergrowth with a panther-like precision. They travailed up and over logs, under low-hanging branches, through patches of rough bush that no one in their right mind would attempt to cross. They were a dark noose, tightening and choking them all until only a few elders and herself had managed to escape.

Neither of her parents managed to make it out of the killing field. In the end, the last sight she had of them was as they stood side to side but opposite, their bows were drawn and arrows firing into the attacking horde.

Tears, streaking down their faces.

Hermione had learned to avoid Humans, ever since that terrible night. In the end, even the comfort of her Elders hadn't been enough to soothe her aching soul, and she had struck out on her own. Humans continued to strike further into the Forest, downing trees to make their homes and beds, hunting animals to feed their ever-growing appetite. 

Further, farther, always pushing into _their_ spaces.

Hermione ran with the wind in her hair, and fear in her heart.

Until Bellatrix.

\---

Bellatrix was never such a self-absorbed soul as to claim herself the _best_ of her nomadic family. No, that particular Honour would have to go to her middle sister Andromeda, who had made the final decision to forgo her own Humanity and become one with nature entirely. All at the request of their parents, and a Tree Spirit named Theodore.

A particularly ludicrous name for a simple lump of wood, if you asked Bellatrix for her opinion on the matter.

No one had, no one would, and so her sister had faded down into leaf and bark. After her Communion, she was proclaimed by their parents as the absolute ideal to live up to, an example that they should all follow.

Oh, that each of them should one day Commune with Nature and be accepted.

Oh, that they should each of them find their own true calling.

Bellatrix didn’t believe in the nonsense of a _‘True Calling,’_ considering it instead a higher ambition to remain two-footed and able to spread her abilities across the Forest. She had never, and would never, believe in being tied down to one singular place, one simple tract of land. Not now, not ever.

Better to remain mobile, than a simple part of the scenery.

There was just so much more she could do with nimble fingers instead of dried twigs, and while her youngest sister went off to join with a nettle named Lucius - _once again, a ridiculous name for a pompous plant_ \- she instead remained free to wander at her leisure. Bellatrix kept to that opinion and mindset even when her parents talked to her for weeks about the joys of Communion. Her will was absolute, even when they brought her to the base of a massive Oak named Rodolphus - _really, what was it with plant life and choosing such odd names?_ \- she had only deigned to answer them with a shake of her head, and a disappearing act.

An act that managed to last all of six years, alone and quiet. Bellatrix carried nothing at her side except the words of the Forest, nothing guiding her path except the flowing of wind through the trees. It was absolutely perfect.

It was the only thing she had ever wanted.

Until one day the loneliness wasn’t enough. Until one day all her plans and wishes for solitude were shoved aside by a rather wondrous sight, beautiful and enchanting.

She thought she had been complete until she met Hermione.

\---

Hermione had never meant to find the woman, the Druid or whatever it was she called herself. She _had_ meant to find herself a source of water for the day, before it became too hot and she travelled too far. The simple scent of a stream had carried her over hills and through small valleys on sure hooves, her mind worried about her surroundings but unable to pick up the scent of Humans among the undergrowth.

She was safe.

Or she had been, up until she knelt down beside the meandering loop of a stream and suddenly found herself placed eye to eye with a woman. 

A _Human_ woman, with dark green eyes and a black mane of curls that was positively infested with twigs and leaves. A dark cloak was wound about her body, a mishmash of leaves and vines that had been grown up from nature itself into a new, more purposeful form.

“Don't!” The woman exclaimed in a hushed tone, the word a rush of air between them. Her hands raised up, palms out, nothing else moving at all except their chests as both of them began to hyperventilate. Hermione felt every muscle in her body tense, her legs ready to spring up and leave. Her hearts _pounded_ inside her dual chests, raring to leave, to run, _escape-_

Even her ears had lain back, a display very much in tune with her frightened state of mind.

_A Human!_

The woman began to ever so slowly lean back to sit upon her haunches, “Please, please, I mean you no harm little fawn. I’m a Druid, one of the Remnant. Please, don’t be frightened.”

But Hermione _was_ afraid. Between the rushing beat of her blood as it nearly drowned out her hearing, and the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she was _terrified._

“Please, it’s been so long-”

Hermione never heard what the woman had to say. Instead, she ran as fast as she could, relying on her dappled hide to keep her safe within the brown foliage of the Forest.

In the end, she wished she hadn’t.

\---

Bellatrix could only watch with amazement as the Doe sprinted from her sight, fleet and sure-hooved. There wasn’t a single chance in Tartarus that she could follow her, not at that speed.

One of the last of her species, a Doe, all alone in these woods.

Blast her damnable luck.

All of the Doe’s worries, sparked by those who would call themselves _Human._ Those who would see fit to _use_ the Forest, instead of learning to coexist within it.

Blast them all, and may their souls never rest within the deepest pits of Tartarus.

\---

It was over three weeks before Hermione managed to find the woman again.

She had become lost in her flight for safety, left with only a cold trail and her nose to lead her back. The scent had nearly faded in a few areas, leaving her alone to figure out where the Druid may have gone.

It took time, but in the end she found her.

Her first sign of life was a stream that the woman had clearly been drinking from. Her footprints were visible in the damp soil, disturbed by palm and foot. Leaves lay scattered around, a variety that wouldn’t grow in temperatures like this, and Hermione was forced to conclude that they must have been growing in the woman’s hair. She managed to keep a hold of that trail and follow the faintest of footprints. Little signs of disturbance announced her path, cemented her stops whenever Hermione would come across a small cairn erected in honour of their Forest Gods.

It was… _unusual,_ in a way.

Hermione had never personally known any Druids, not when she was but a fawn, and not during her everlasting escape from the coming Humans. No matter how far she travelled, they were but a myth. She had heard tales of them of course, stories and tales passed down from the Elders of her lost Herd, faint mutterings and whispers that they would pass on. Once, they had mingled together for trade and safety. Once, they had always been found by their side. The Druids were all protectors of the Forest for Humans, much as her own kind were supposed to have been the protectors for all the Magical denizens of the Forest.

But they hadn’t fulfilled that requirement for years, if not longer.

 _But the Druids still existed._

In some form or fashion they still wandered beneath the canopy of the Forest, watching over wayward trees and the inhabitants most others would overlook.

Much like the Woman was now, not even two full meters away from where Hermione stood. 

She was kneeling amid the dirt and detritus of the Forest floor, her hands buried down up to her elbows in a pile of soft loam. Words flowed from her in the language of an ancient tongue, and a faint green light was pouring from her chest with every pause. It was some spell, or perhaps a ritual, something that was used to bless the Forest and bring new life to bear.

Hermione had known her own words for a ritual such as this, once upon a time.

But it was lost now, like so many things.

“Welcome back,” the woman’s voice finally broke from her chanting. The tone was just barely loud enough for Hermione to hear her, “I’m so very glad that you’re alright, little fawn. So few of you are left, I had worried I’d dreamed up the whole encounter. Never once thought I’d manage to come across any of you, not so far north as we are.”

Hermione stood frozen, swaying slightly from side to side in uncertainty. Did she dare respond? Was it worth it, breaking the promise she had made herself, all those years ago?

Should she talk with a member of the Enemy?

But this Druid wasn’t an enemy.

...Was she?

\---

There was no answer to Bellatrix’s words, nothing at all but the soft rustle of foliage as the Doe remained there in indecision with hooves stamping against dried leaves.

Well then, she would be the first to make a move.

Bellatrix sighed and began to pull her arms up from within the earth, her ritual finally completed.

“If you’d like, I can-”

-foliage crashed, turned and tossed. Bellatrix startled into falling on her side, eyes darting about in fear until she realized it was the crashing of the Doe as she returned deeper into the woods with a speed unmatched by all but the fastest predators.

“Well. I’m sure this bodes good tidings.” A frown managed to mar the beauty of her face as she spoke blankly to the trees surrounding her. An itching in her arms had her looking down as bark began to grow in place of skin, wanting and searching for a new home. 

A home she would not give, for now at least.

She wiped herself against her cloak, her jeans made from hemp, and revealed clean - _and most importantly, Human_ \- skin below the layer of grime that had accumulated. Best she not remain settled then, lest some wayward spirit become too attached to her soul, and attempt to reel her in regardless of her feelings on the matter.

Best she walk, and hope to once more encounter the Doe.

\---

It took another three days before Bellatrix finally realized she was being followed from a distance. It was a barely noticeable thing, hardly even there, only a few hints and rustles tipping her off. The sounds weren’t unusual in _how_ they sounded, but the frequency was all off. There were no predators to stalk this wood, nothing that would come for her at least, and something lowly stalking would be viewed harshly by the spirits of the Forest.

One simply didn’t trail after Druids, unless you were ready to deal with all their defences and a fury that was unmatched.

Another day revealed her follower to be the Doe.

Quick, sure-hoofed, quiet and intensely skittish. She followed Bellatrix at the barest periphery of her vision, far away enough that she could duck behind thick tree trunks, or fall to the ground with legs folded beneath her whenever Bellatrix looked back.

Bellatrix did manage to get a few looks, once every now and then, and found herself growing more enchanted with each moment.

The Doe was beautiful; far smaller than what the Southerners would term as a Centaur, her body was dappled and speckled in browns and white atop fur that she knew from experience - _as a child, when such wonders still roamed freely_ \- to be softer even than fresh grass. Long golden tresses splayed out across the Doe’s shoulders in heaps of curls that brought more jealousy than awe; they were controlled, beautiful and ringed, not a single hair out of place. Her eyes were bright they shined a wondrous brown.

The Doe’s face was as dappled as her coat; some spots whiter, some others darker, a nose very human in shape yet black as Bellatrix’s own hair.

An upper body that Bellatrix couldn’t help but appreciate from afar.

The Doe was beauty in all its wonderful magnificence.

Bellatrix laid her trap not long before nightfall on the seventh night of being followed.

\---

Hermione was - _Curious? Amused? … Lonely?_ \- confused.

She wasn’t quite sure what it was that propelled her to follow in the Druid’s footsteps, she wasn’t sure what was drawing her forward even as they wandered further into the depths of the Forest. But _something_ in her soul was biting and refusing to let her leave until she had seen this fascination through to the end. She would continue to follow, day after day, just barely keeping the Druid within her sight.

She asked the Tree’s to tilt their leaves, revealing passes of stabler ground for the woman to step along as she wandered. She asked the animals to clear her trail, all the moose and elk banding together to trample wet and awkward ground into a far more serviceable trail. She even asked the wind to provide her safe passage, a winding cone of movement that kept the Druid’s scent from disappearing or filtering into the forest.

Contrary to whatever it was that the Druid believed, there _were_ dangers here; things much older than them both, and become ravenous in their solitude-

-and Hermione had decided that she would _not_ allow her Druid to come to harm.

Not now.

Not ever, if she managed to have her way.

 _Her_ Druid. When had she come to think of the woman in that way?

If Hermione asked herself why all this was happening, she would be left stumbling over words that couldn’t answer it. It just… _was._ A pull, this tug upon her soul, the glittering beauty that she followed and searched for, just as she had once looked for gems within a stream bed as a fawn.

And so it was that her constant following led her to be caught one night, as she bedded down and folded her legs beneath her. She lay sideways in her bed, head propped up upon a mound of moss that spoke of ages past and beauties long withered.

“Hello again, little fawn.”

The voice was quiet but sure of itself, strong and determined but very clearly attempting to remain calm, and avoid startling Hermione.

It helped, only a little.

Instead of sprinting into the undergrowth, Hermione merely rose up in an instant, preparing herself to run if need be-

_Wait._

Nothing had warned her of the Druid’s approach.

By all rights the moss should have been the one to tell her, spread out as it was. The winds should have whispered of her coming, stirring Hermione into action. The trees should have screamed and shouted that danger was approaching.

And yet… they hadn’t.

None at all, not one of them. Instead of the warning that she had been expecting, all of the Forest seemed to have quieted itself. 

She was being left alone, purposefully, to deal with this Druid.

Well.

If all the Forest thought it appropriate, then deal with her she would.

Hermione swallowed, calmed herself, relaxed all her muscles as she turned to face her.

“Hello.”

\---

Hermione.

An absolutely beautiful name for a Doe; so quiet and demure, but so very frightened of a world that had stolen away her family. She was dedicated to her cause, knowledgeable in all the ways her Forest worked-

-and she was quite hilarious, after some sips from aged wine that had been made from wild grapes.

This was Bellatrix’s new travelling companion, younger than her but oh so very learned, and oh so very happy to remain at her side.

_Why?_

The Gods only knew. Bellatrix herself didn’t properly care to know _why,_ caring only that it was out of the Doe’s own wishes. She merely contented herself with having someone at her side who wasn’t made from bark and could talk with proper words. Someone who she could bounce her thoughts off of, or simply banter with late at night. Their life was still mostly filled with silence, as the Doe talked very little about herself or what her life had been like, but it was far, far better than remaining stuck within her own head.

Far better than continuing to wander around with Family, and all their puffed-up expectations.

Hermione had no expectations. None, nothing at all.

It was… Peaceful.

\---

The easy comfort that they built around themselves continued even as days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months.

Bellatrix couldn’t quite pinpoint when it was that their odd little relationship changed. She couldn’t tell exactly when she saw Hermione as less of a companion and more as… _something_ else.

All that she knew was that when they had finished their rituals one night, hours spent blessing trees and spreading life to new corners where it had yet to root and grow, they stood there together for a time.

The Sun still hung up against the horizon, Solstice soon to come upon them, and though it was beginning to grow dark there was still more than enough light for Bellatrix to gaze upon the patterns of Hermione’s face. Light enough for her to smile at the beauty of her companion. Both were silent as ever, and when a sudden wind threw chills down her spine, Bellatrix moved forward instead of retreating into the comfort of her cloak.

She wound her fingers into Hermione’s and pressed her body close to the Doe, even as she muttered something inane about the improbability of cold weather on a night like this. Hermione, for her part, was content to let her close. She seemed completely unbothered by the space that they now shared, nor the way that Bellatrix was practically melting into her.

A minute passed them by, maybe two at most, before a thought began to stick and repeat within Bellatrix’s mind.

A thought she turned into action.

A kiss.

Light, chaste, and simple in the reverence she forced into it.

So very little, yet carrying so much emotion.

Bellatrix lingered for a second or two before something urged that she should pull away, only unable to find herself capable of doing so. Hermione wound her arms around Bellatrix’s shoulders, holding her firmly in place.

And then Hermione reciprocated, and Bellatrix _truly_ melted into the warmth of her companion.

Yes, if travelling together meant more of this, more shared time and moments, then Bellatrix could do it.

And so, they did.


	2. Nature at Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild, mostly-unedited smut ahead.

The Forest was a living beast that sought to swallow any and all secrets.

The spread of it was massive, from the Mountains lying eastward to the salted plains of the far west, gobbling up brook and vale all north and south along the Continent. The Trees were ancient beings that had existed long before knowledge filled those lesser creatures that scurried about, had filled their hollows from loam to canopy with truths and sounds and insight that the world had never been aware of, realities long-hidden and forgotten. The Forest  _ ate _ all that which others wanted gone, it  _ absorbed _ all that needed to be dispersed as seed and flower, flung high what had dropped down to flit about and slough downstream.

The aches and pains of mortal life could vanish here, just as assuredly as sanity or wit.

And right now Bellatrix was sure that her sanity had fled. She was as sure of this as she was sure that no matter what the Sun would rise come morning even if she could not see it through the clouds above their heads.

Surely that was the only way to explain the romance between the two, the only way to explain the creature nestled down between her legs. Surely she wasn’t this lucky on her own.

The nights were long cold things that sought to make brittle all the living beings as they slumbered or wandered from one haunt to the next. The night itself was a brittle thing that played at being powerful even when all it would take to dispel the shadows and hidden hollows was the rising of the Sun.

The falling twilight led to breaking dawn just as sure as the warbling call of birds could reveal that something had gone wrong.

Or right.

The Fawn had gone right. The Fawn had grown up harsh and alone, battered and trained to fear the world around her. Yet still she managed to find courage enough to love Bellatrix, to love her like no other had before and love her still with more than the spirits beneath their feet, and hooves. Those shadowed memories lasting inside foliage could never turn her towards a life of bark and loam or ever hope to overcome the sweetness of their chosen bond.

Hermione loved Bellatrix just the same as Bellatrix loved her.

Hermione loved Bellatrix just as much as she loved the world around them, no matter how terrifying it could sometimes be.

A firstborn scion, a Leader, short antlers now poking above her temples from where the Forest’s magic had coalesced; Nature’s first true sign of wanting a new herd to roam the Forest.

Nature wanted new life.

Nature would be denied, but not for any lack of trying on their part. More it was rebuffed due to a lack of compatibility. 

Bellatrix might have known spells that could change the world but there was nothing within her repertoire of knowledge to fix Hermione’s slowly growing plight.

Instead, Bellatrix contented herself with cradling the dappled face between her palms with thumbs that roved in soothing motions across the soft skin to bring out relief. The action was more kinship than desire, she possessed lips and tongue for more lascivious interactions.

Of which this moment was certainly skewing towards.

The harshness of the bark at her back was a much better brace than she had imagined it would be; the length of the tree kept her propped up to focus all attention on the Fawn knelt delicately between her spread knees. Differences in anatomy aside, there weren’t very many comfortable positions that the both of them could share or nestle against one another unless she was willing to stand for ages on end or lay down on her side. But with her now backed up against the hardwood? Well that was another matter entirely, and one she much preferred.

Bellatrix’s lips dove in again to taste the sweetness of her prize, a raw flood of  _ lust _ bubbling up between them both. Hermione had learned the more intimate portions of their dance within a few short weeks of their personal Communion, which was not to say that she had needed much instruction on the matter. Bellatrix’s lower form might have been distinct and unusual to her but even the old Centaurs of her long-gone herd had sometimes made lovers of those rare Druids who wandered their sections of the Forest.

All Hermione had needed was a moment to adjust herself into an understanding of the situation; Bellatrix  _ loved _ when she would nip at her skin, Bellatrix would  _ scream _ when fingers caressed the heat between her legs, Bellatrix  _ cried _ with tormented passion when a tongue was playing with the engorged flesh at the apex of her slit. Bellatrix was all hands, all feeling, all touch and beautiful desire. Bellatrix was strong as an oak and more than willing enough to grab onto too short antlers and draw Hermione in against her.

The sprouts of bone were curving things still delicate despite the sharpness of their tips and just strong enough for Bellatrix to pull or tug in an effort to direct her attention. They were cute, even if Bellatrix knew what they meant, and covered in a down velvet until Nature so desired that Hermione shed it.

Bellatrix would even say they were adorable, were not her own attention focused elsewhere.

Nights of experimentation and cries of lucid wonder were lost to the spaces between groves of trees. Freezing nights were driven humid and warm with swirling magic and swirling tongues and screams that sounded far more feral than anything Bellatrix could normally produce. It was a beautiful connection, it was their moment of respite from lonely wanderings and a sense of self that merged more than it differed.

It was their reward for staying close and offering one another the help they both deserved.

Bellatrix nipped upon the softness of a full lip before dragging it backwards and releasing to relish the little whine that warbled out from her lover’s chest. Her body was clad only in the last vestiges of the Forest; leaves in her hair and vines trying to comb it all into manageable shapes but otherwise bared to the world around them. Sweat patterned between her breasts, droplets wrung from fevered passion and shaking moans. She looked, and felt, just as aroused as she could be.

Slowly, as if she were the one enjoying it and not Bellatrix, Hermione lowered herself to press chaste kisses and warm tongue onto her lover’s throat in a trail that led to collarbones and scars. She traced each one with an eager tongue that sought to memorize the pattern and design; here a curving silver chain from bears too prideful to admit their faults, there a wellspring of tissue after escaping poachers that found her prettier than their prey. 

Each were committed to memory just as quickly and just as easily as the constellations above their heads. Not that they could see anything tonight, not with the clouds covering them before a snowstorm and not with eyes made only for each other.

Bellatrix ran her fingers through the luscious tangles of her lover’s chestnut hair, fingernails scratching and palms directing that wandering tongue to a rosebud of flesh swollen and pounding against her chest. Thin fingers that were so slight they seemed as like to break as braid were cupped around the warm flesh of the lonely breast, pinching and pulling and trying to wring fresh moans from Bellatrix’s throat. 

Stars descended on Bellatrix’s vision as her heart rate pounded in delight, gasps and words and freeing sounds pouring from her lips. The heat at her core was incessant now, a beacon of desire that left her thighs slick and sticking against the soft fur of Hermione’s lower form.

The position wasn’t exactly comfortable, her legs were spread wider than she would have liked, and Hermione was undoubtedly cramped with her own four legs folded up directly beneath her. But it worked, for what it was worth, and allowed her chosen mate the privileged access she so desired.

When Hermione tired of laving at a hardened nipple, she returned to slowly crawling herself down with tongue and lips and gentle caresses that led her lower still until she could smell the nectar dripping from her lover’s core. Hermione was never one to mince words or wait to see what might happen, she was active and intense and immediately descended upon her prize. A whisper of soft breath upon her skin was the only warning Bellatrix received before her clit was massaged between warm lips and batted at by probing tongue that sought to rub her into a frenzied disaster.

Her ministrations were not left unheeded, Bellatrix lowering and raising herself at once until her back was pressed to the forest floor and legs bound up above the Fawn’s shoulders with ankles locked to draw her in closer. The grip she held atop Hermione’s antlers tightened as she pulled, sought friction and flowing movement that  _ finally _ had her clit released and tongue and fingers probing inside her instead. 

Free hand unwilling to be alone, Hermione wrapped her arm around a thigh and sought that nub of flesh again, now timing the movements to that of her tongue as she fought to lick desire from Bellatrix’s heart.

The Druid could feel her body flush, could feel her mind begin to loose, and with time and persistence she felt herself come undone by the tongue between her legs and hand burning a rhythm against her apex. A crying sort of madness filled her from toes to ears with  _ fire _ that burned wherever it spread.

She came down quietly to the murmuring of love and affection and  _ need _ for the woman between her legs.

The Forest swallowed that too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up; Bella's turn at Hermione. Warning, it will be more graphic.


End file.
